Drowning

The López family was known as one of the 16 Sacred Wizarding Families of Spain. It was a vast, robust tree that spread throughout the Mediterranean coast, all the way to Turkey and most definitely Egypt. They were related to the Benitez, and the Belizóns, and even went as far as Ireland where the MacCleary held quite a few of their own. Most notoriously, they were second-cousins with the Lestranges.

The main family lived on Madrid, consisting of three sisters and three brothers. The eldest was Miguel, now living overseas in Australia where he took care of International Matters in the Australian Magic Ministry. Then there was Cristina, working as the secretary of the French Prime Minister of Magic, covering up his scandals and managing his relations. Luis and Ángela, the twins, were currently in the United States as Wand engineers. Iris, of course, was enjoying her last wonderful year in Beauxbatons, as was expected of a Spanish seventeen year old pureblood lady.

Then there was Elías. The kid had always been a strange one - tan, dark hair and striking green eyes like the rest of his family, but he'd firmly disliked the idea of going to Dumstrang from the beginning. In return, his father had offered him Hogwarts, and again Elías had declined. It was when he was eleven that it became clear he was to leave for Salem. 

He enjoyed the school. Went home some winters to celebrate Christmas and stayed the rest of the year, sometimes joining a friend of his for Easter or maybe Winter if his parents let him.

When in January he turned sixteen, his parents had made the decision to finish a deal they'd long ago made.

"You're to marry Lyssandra Yaxley," they told him over Christmas, and the young lad had looked up and nodded, soon eating again as if they'd told him of the weather. Inside, he was boiling. "Now that your betrothal is secure, you must leave Salem and depart to England, where you will continue your education in Hogwarts."

"But mother -"

"No excuses," she'd silenced him, and that was all.

There was something not many people understood, Elías thought that night as he laid in his old bed. Tradition was awfully overrated, and in England he was sure that he'd have to watch his back in more than one ocassion. His mother had been in Hogwarts, as had been his grandfather and his great-grandfather. They'd all been in Slytherin, yet he didn't really feel like one. He did not have the determination his brothers possessed, and he wasn't a very social bloke, so he did not have much friends.

With a grimace, he suddenly realized he'd probably never see Andrew again.

And, indeed, on the last day of school, Andrew bid Elías the most wonderful farewell that left a bittersweet imprint on his tongue. Then the floo network opened and he was pushed into it by his mother. 

Before him was the manor he'd come to so often as a child on Spring, in Godric's Hollow, and with a heavy sigh Elías left his luggage to the house elf and found his room.

"We will be staying here until you finish your education," his father explained the following morning, when he trudged downstairs sullenly after noticing the rainy weather. "You better not fail any classes, boy, Salem is much softer than Hogwarts."

"Yes, father," Elías sighed.

The rest of the summer was filled with tutors, as it always was. The subjects weren't nearly as hard as Elías had feared, but he had very little time to fly on his broom and even less to catch up on the books Andrew had given him before he left.

"Don't get sorted into Gryffindor," his mother scowled as she fixed his robes the first of September at Kings Cross. "Purebloods are most likely to be categorized as blood-traitors if they're in Gryffindor, and we don't want any trouble, you hear me, Elías?"

"Yes, mother," he replied, as always.

"Good," she gave him a tight hug and then pushed him towards the scarlet train. "I will write to you every month. Don't forget to find Lyssandra and properly introduce yourself."

"Yes, mother," he said for the last time before he pushed his trunk inside the train and let out a sigh of relief. "Merlin's beard."

He felt lost, awkward, uncomfortable as he walked through the train looking for empty compartments. He had no idea if he was supposed to find Lyssandra or if he could be left to his own on the train ride. Selfishly, he decided on the latter when he found an empty compartment near the back of the train, moving inside quickly.

Just as he was opening his book, the door flew open and he cursed in Spanish under his breath. Then, much to his surprise, he found the eldest of the Black brothers staring incredulously at him.

"You," grey eyes widened, and Elías' stomach turned violently. 

Of course. He'd forgotten about the Blacks. Damn, they were the biggest family in the British Magic Community, how had he forgotten? He tried not to see Regulus when he saw Sirius, focusing instead on the Gryffindor tie and the rugged look Sirius sported. God, he'd grown up since they were kids.

"The bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Mother and father decided it was best for me to study where my fianceè studies, too," he winced a little. Sirius hissed lowly, stepping inside. Much to Elías dislike, his friend started to settle in as well. "Heard about last summer. Must've been awful."

"Seriously?" the eldest Black grinned. "I went to live with the Potters. You can't imagine how incredible they are."

"Ah, good for you," the Spaniard smiled tightly.

"So who are you betrothed to?" Sirius raised his eyebrows. "It can't be Cissa or Bella, they're already about to get hitched."

"Lyssandra Yaxley," Elías replied. "Lovely pureblood girl."

"Does that mean that you're a pureblood, too?" the short, chubby boy with watery eyes looked at him and when Elías nodded, he glanced at Sirius.

"He's Elías López," Sirius spoke with a bored tone. "Wormtail, he's one of the only purebloods left in Spain. They're somewhat a dying breed, so they're moving to all these places. Miguel was in Bulgaria, right?"

"Australia," Elías corrected, turning a page. "And Iris is now finishing Beauxbatons."

"I would have married Iris if I had stayed last summer at my house," Sirius spoke to his friend. "So I'm guessing you're only here for political stands?"

"Unfortunately so," the Spaniard grimaced. "Still, tradition is tradition. I have to carry my family's name, and soon enough I'll be gone to Spain. Wars in Europe hardly matter to a country like mine."

"You're not part of this war?" the boy frowned at him. "But Europe is your home, too!"

"Family is home, boy," Elías kept staring at the pages of his book. "And there's nothing else."

"To some, maybe," Sirius whispered.

"How is Regulus?" he asked, smugness on his voice, but his heart was hammering inside his chest. 

Sirius glared deeply at him, a muscle in his jaw moving before he snapped his gaze away. Elías couldn't help but smirk - people were so easily moved by emotions, and he had a lot of fun toying with them. He hummed.

"Thought so," he really should finish his book. "How old is he now?"

"Sixteen, like you," he could hear the weak spot, the heart of the eldest Black when he spoke about his brother. Regulus and Sirius had been good friends, tight brothers when they were all around the age of seven and all that mattered were brooms and cauldron cakes. "He's in Slytherin, where I suppose you'll be, too, right?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "We'll see."

Then he turned to his book and Sirius said no more. It was about an hour and a half later that the door opened once more to let in a sandy blond bloke with scars on his face and hands, wearing a prefect badge. After him entered another boy with shaggy hair, round glasses and hazel eyes, sporting a Head Boy badge. He froze when he saw him.

"Uh, hello?" he offered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"James," the blond elbowed him. "Hello."

"Hello," Elías nodded before turning to the other unknown boy. "Elías López, nice to meet you."

"Remus Lupin," was all he responded, eying him curiously.

The four friends ignored him throughout the ride. Yet as the sky darkened, Elías couldn't help but start to get a little homesick for Salem. The British accent felt so foreign when it came to education. Salem had never had a train, or the four houses that divided the student body. Feeling an itch, he finally shut the book and stood, startling the four Gryffindors.

"Off to find your beloved?" Sirius asked with a teasing tone.

"Indeed," was the curt answer he gave.

With a nod, he left the compartment but, instead of searching for anyone that resembled Lyssandra, he moved to the back of the train, where he hoped to get some fresh air. Unfortunately, just as he was about to reach the end of the train, a door opened and a body almost smacked into him.

Elías was taken then a few years back in time, when Grimmauld Place was full of children and he'd kissed a boy slightly younger than him because he'd asked what was love about.

"Regulus," he breathed out.

"Elías?" the Slytherin gaped.

He looked so handsome - swirling grey eyes, pale porcelain skin, luscious black hair to his shoulders and the pinkest lips Elías had ever seen. Regulus Arcturus Black II put Andrew Lloyd to shame, and Elías had been in love with the guy for a while.

"Joder," Elías cursed, lifting a hand and grasping Regulus' chin with the biggest grin on his face. The younger lad was turning a lovely shade of pink, mouth half-opened and breath coming out in short, fast bursts. "You look as handsome as I expected you to be."

"What are you doing here?" Regulus slapped his hand away, but Elías was quick to grab his wrist, thumb rubbing his skin. The Slytherin resembled a ripe tomato. "What are you doing in England?"

"Elías?"

Regulus snatched his hand away, and the Spaniard turned to see Lyssandra Yaxley watching him with curious eyes. They'd met once, when they were children, around the age of ten. Now she had long, golden locks that fell down her back and sported a pair of beautiful, brilliant brown eyes, almost amber. Button nose, a couple of freckles and plump lips. She really was a beauty. Elías wished, and not for the first time, that he could just get half hard with the thought of her naked.

"Lyssandra, dear," he dutifully walked towards her and lifted her hand to kiss it softly, bowing his head. "You look lovely."

"As do you, Elías," she returned rightfully.

"Lys?" Regulus frowned.

"Oh, right," she blushed, looped her arm around Elías' and grinned at him, lifting her hand to show the engagement ring. "Let me introduce you to Elías López, my betrothed."

Elías really fucking hated tradition.